Neferious Schemes and Simple Requests
by KakyoTheStickInTheMud
Summary: Some random holiday fluff. Seto's got an evil Christmas plan. Or question. Or whatever you want to call it. In any case, Joey's in for a surprise... SetoxJoey shonen-ai.


Okay, I just had to get this done for a fic challenge, and with that and the holidays and all that jazz, I can only promise that chapter 8 of P's P is on the way. Very soon.

Right! So... This is just some random holiday fluff, hope everyone likes it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh.

* * *

**Nefarious Schemes and Simple Requests**

Today is Thursday, December 23, 2004, or "Christmas Eve Eve," as Joey calls it. What he loves so much about this time of year, this ridiculous circus of commercialism, I am certain I have no idea; but, after spending the last two with him as, ahem, companions, I must say that it grows ever more difficult to maintain my so-called "Scrooginess." And will you believe that he only laughs when I point out that this adjective does not exist?

Naturally, in years before, Christmas day has always passed with little event: with simple gifts for Mokuba, and the mutt, more recently (which always cause the both of them to make unbelievable amounts of noise), and later, a quiet brunch at a decent restaurant. It's more than I would like to do, honestly. Holidays are for losers who have unimportant lives… or so I thought.

This year, I find my home covered in strange, offensively colorful decorations, both of high quality, imported from far-off countries, and… others, less well-crafted, hand-fashioned by Joey and my brother. I find myself subjected to sporting a jaunty red cap with fluffy white trim and a particularly irritating "jingly bell." I find my hand signing endless greeting cards that say "Love, Joey and," in the inch of space left underneath for my own autograph.

I even, time to time, find myself smiling at the warm sensation that the look of joy in his deep brown eyes brings to the center of me, spontaneously lit when he sees something truly awful, like bratty children singing carols in off-key voices. This vile spirit of this vile season has at last infected me.

What is happening to me, you ask?

What could possibly bring down this fortress of non-sentimentalism?

My only explanation is that, this year, I realized I wished to spend the remainder of my existence with someone who found this awful, overrated day to be so amusing and (if you can believe it) meaningful.

Now, understand that coming to this point in my life was a long and difficult journey to say the least. I have always prided myself on being unusually socially reserved, you see, and to so much as accept an offer of something more than friendship with someone, even someone as, though I hate to admit it, _beautiful _as Joey, was the single most difficult thing I have ever done. Our attraction for one another had become obvious at some place in time: first to his simpleton friends, and, eventually, to ourselves. However, ignoring this unsavory 'feeling' was to be nothing but a thwarted plan of my own design. It was only the prelude to my downfall. I remember the day so clearly, nearly two and a half years ago…

It began as just another school day, and, thus, another heated discussion with my puppy (as I had secretly come to think of him) about his dueling skills. Or lack thereof. Whatever. As I was saying, there we were, him gripping my collar and screaming in a very undignified way as I smirked casually at him, when suddenly he stopped. His face was mere inches from my own, and his breaths came in short, heated gasps, when he said something I shall never forget:

"Are you as turned on as I am right now?"

I felt the smirk actually wiped from my face, as the expression goes.

Needless to say, we ended up somewhat, well, _entwined_, on the floor of an empty classroom. I can still hear that teacher screaming… heh.

I was then left with a dilemma. Joey was male, my rival, and in my own mind had every motivation for acting out of a purely malicious intent, but his behavior following the event seemed to make that unlikely. He called. He dropped by. He blushed when I looked at him in class. It became clear that it had not been a joke to him, nor a meaningless turn of events, and that he was, strangely enough, "putting the ball in my court." Hence my dilemma.

I spent long hours of the night pondering this situation. What else could I do? Even a purely logical analysis of the situation only brought me to the conclusion that his personality, being so opposite from my own, served to create a sort of balance between us, making us a rather good match. My initial instinct, the one telling me to run far, far away from this tempting source of danger, was overruled, by both this and… shall I say hormones? Simple, unadulterated lust would be a better description.

Since then, my fondness for him has grown at an alarming rate. Although it is true that in the beginning I felt I was only playing at a relationship, experimenting with a scenario I had never experienced, as time went by I came to know that I'd been struck with that horrible gooey feeling poets and teenagers call "Love." I was conquered, really, as he so likes to remind me, and I suppose my plan is the wrecking ball that will tear down the last shreds of my defenses.

What is my plan? Well, I suppose it's more a request than a nefarious scheme, although at times, as I sat and thought on just how it will be done, it seemed more like the latter. It isn't that I mean to trick him at all; I only mean to devise a course of action that will leave him without any room to refuse. I feel so small when I consider it. This boy, this boy that I have spent so much time upon, in times of rivalry and togetherness, the boy that I have found to be both the most insignificant and the most important I have ever known, is now to be offered the opportunity to crush me in his hand. Obviously, I have taken every precaution possible to ensure that everything goes perfectly, but… matters concerning choices based on the emotions of others are always unpredictable.

Now, he is asleep, curled into the fetal position on my sofa, my brother nestled into my own favorite space just behind him, curved in just the same way. The two I care for most, the only two I care about at all, really. It almost feels like a real, dysfunction-free family.

I'm going to sigh if I keep watching them sleep, I can feel it.

Well, everything is as perfect as I can possibly ensure. Tomorrow night we will be hosting a party, as unlikely as it sounds, and the entire 'posse' will be there. I felt that they should be there, that Joey would want them there. I in fact ultimately had to inform them all of my plan, actually, in order to craft it with their cooperation. Thankfully they agreed, and cheerfully, though the one whose name I can barely remember, the thug with the uni-spike hairdo, gave me a rather sour look. Travis? Trevor? Oh well. He said he'll participate, anyway, because, in his own words, "for some crazy reason, Joey's really happy with you."

So, the stage is set, and now all I can do is wait.

I gather Mokuba into my arms first, marching up the stairs with him to his room, laying him down on his bed where he promptly cuddles up to a pillow. I smile and smooth his hair before going back down to collect Joey. His eyes open just a crack when I lift him up.

"Seto? Lemme doowwwn, I kin wok…" he mumbles sleepily. I smirk at him.

"Want me to drop you?" I reply, letting him go for a split second, just so that he drops about a foot while still in my arms, before retaking my grasp on him, startling him almost fully awake.

"HEY!" he cries. I love it when he gets all panicked. It's so much fun. He realizes that he hasn't hit the ground and scowls at me. "You're so mean."

But he presses his face into my chest just the same, sighing as his eyes droop shut again, his hair brushing against my collarbone with every step we climb.

"Hey Seto?"

"Hmmm?"

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, huh?"

"Yes, it is. Are you excited?"

He smiles into my shirt, his eyes still closed. "Mmmhmm."

We get to the bedroom and I manage to turn down the sheets with one hand while holding onto him with the other, laying him down so he'll face me. I slip out of my shirt and pants, climbing into the bed myself, and Joey, as if on cue, wiggles into the space just beside and on top of me that seems to be molded exclusively for his comfort, his head on my shoulder, one arm across my stomach. I bring my own around his shoulders and lay my hand in his hair.

"Joey?"

"Hmmm?"

I pause. I know it's wrong to take advantage of his too truthful, technically sleeping state, but honestly, I must do something to ease this wretched anxiety about tomorrow.

"If I ever ask you to do something very important, will you say yes?"

"Hmmm? Whatcha needta ask?"

"Nothing," I say hurriedly, "nothing right now, but if I ever do…?"

He mumbles incoherently and I can feel his lips curve into a small smile against my chest.

"Joey?"

"Mmm?"

"Would you say yes?"

He nods slightly, his hair tickling me a bit. "Suuuure ah would." He smiles a little bigger and squeezes me, an action he knows I enjoy. He also knows that no one must ever know this. "Love you," he sighs, kissing an awkward spot on my collarbone, the only one he can reach.

I smile and squeeze him back, and sleep takes me at last.

* * *

Now it is Christmas morning; yes, all the excitement is over. All that is left is Joey, and he is sleeping naked in my arms. I feel a strange, uncoiled feeling, and I must say, I am rather enjoying it. The clock says it's nearly five o' clock, and so I have a while still before I hear Mokuba's Waking War Cry about his gifts. Moments like these, where I can truly be where I am without needing to be anywhere else, in which I can sincerely relax… these moments are a bit rare.

So I am free then, to gaze at the top of his head, at his left hand and the small glint of metal there; free to let my mind wander over the events of last night.

He said yes, as I knew he would.

* * *

AN: Hee. I hope that was enjoyable for you all. Let me know what you thought if you like, I'd love to hear it. Happy holidays… uh, very late holidays… 


End file.
